


Will You Always Answer My Call?

by HamishHolmes



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Airplanes, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 20:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5178332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamishHolmes/pseuds/HamishHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pavel Chekov travels long-haul more often than he would like, but maybe this flight won't be so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You Always Answer My Call?

Pavel Chekov should have been more used to travelling long haul than he was. He flew from America to England and back at least once a month. And yet he still couldn’t get comfy in the seats, couldn’t find headphones which fit, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t bring himself to ask the person next to him to move so that he could go to the loo. He hated it, but it allowed him to do what he loved, so he put up with it. 

This particular flight found Chekov propped into the seat next to the window, pushed up against the wall in an attempt not to touch the woman next to him whose arms were taking up the arm rest on both sides.

As he shifted again, he knocked against his armrest, where the remote for the television was, and jumped when the light above him flashed on. Unable to turn it off, despite pressing several buttons, he gave the lady next to him an apologetic smile and turned his attention back to the film he was watching.

“Can I help?” asked a man in the aisle.

Chekov pulled off his headphones and looked up. Standing there was a handsome young man, who was wearing a genuine smile and looking at him.

“I’m sorry,” said Chekov, slightly confused.

“You pressed the _call attendant button_ ,” said the man, gesturing to the light that illuminated Chekov.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Chekov, flushing, “I accidentally bumped it as I was making myself more comfortable, or attempting to.”

The lady next to him harrumphed, although Chekov couldn’t tell if it was at him, or at the film that she was watching.

“Can I get you anything whilst I’m here?”

“Um… would it be possible to get a little water?” asked Chekov, suddenly parched.

“Of course,” said the man, “still or sparkling?”

“Still, please,” said Chekov.

“Wise choice,” said the airhost, “I’ll be one minute.”

He left and the light above Chekov’s head flicked off. Chekov left his headphones off, anticipating the man’s quick return, and instead turned his attention to his book.

“Here, you go, sir,” said the man.

“Oh thank you …”

Chekov didn’t realised that he’d asked an unvoiced question until the man answered it.

“Hikaru Sulu, but most people just call me Sulu.”

“Pavel Chekov,” said Chekov, “and most people use my surname too.”

“Boarding school?”

“Yes,” Chekov smiled, wondering why it felt so nice to have something in common with this man.

“Well, if you need anything, you know where the button is.”

Chekov smiled.

***  
Chekov didn’t want to turn his light on for fear that it would wake the woman next to him and that once again he’d be subjected to the rant about inconsiderate travellers. As such, he was trying to find the right button on the remote to change from a movie to music in the half light of the cabin, without having his contacts in, or his glasses on. He pressed a button that he thought would allow him to change, but instead his light flicked on.

He caught his breath, and then let it out as he realised that the woman remained sleeping, breathing slowly and barely twitching at the change in light levels. For a moment Chekov relaxed, but then he realised that he had not in fact pressed the light button, but once again the _call attendant_ button.

He thought that he might die of embarrassment if he had to explain to another attendant that he had made another mistake.

But then, as he tried to hide in the only patch of light in the whole plane, he saw that it was not in fact a new attendant, but Sulu again, who was making his way towards him.

“Hey, Chekov,” said Sulu, voice quiet but still audible, “what can I help you with?”

“Would you believe that I accidentally hit the button again?”

Sulu smiled.

“Yeah,” he said, “given as you’re the only person I’ve ever served who’s managed to do it once, stands to reason that you might do it again.”

“Really?” said Chekov, “the only person?”

“Yeah.” 

“Oh,” said Chekov, “I thought that someone else at least might have done it.”

Sulu smiled.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you,” said Chekov, “but could you please tell me how to change from a film back to some music?”

“Yeah,” said Sulu, reaching over the woman next to him and pressing three buttons on Chekov’s remote, “there, now you just pick a style and then press enter.”

“Thank you,” said Chekov, sitting up straighter and smiling.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again,” said Sulu, winking as he walked away.

***

Chekov was bored. He’d finished his book, which had a great ending that he wasn’t expecting, and he’d watched the only movie that he hadn’t seen. He was too tired to work but too awake to sleep. Browsing slowly through the on-board entertainment system, he found that he could play solitare on the thing.

He had loved card games ever since he was a child and his mother had taught him how to play Tosh’s, which he had later learned was called solitaire by everyone else, and his father had taught him how to play, and hustle at, poker.

He managed to get the remote out of the arm rest and into a comfortable position to play. For the first few games, he was fine, playing with skill and winning all four out of five. As he played, he got more and more tired, until he was yawning every move and barely keeping his eyes open.

Because of this, when he went to make his next move, the light above his head flicked on and he groaned internally.

“Hey, Chekov,” said Sulu, arriving moments after the button has been pushed, “another accident?”

Sulu could see that the passenger was very red and felt sorry for him. The cute Russian had made quite an impression on Sulu, but he kept telling himself that he was definitely not watching the man’s seat for the next time that the light flicked on.

“Unfortunately,” Chekov yawned, “yes. I appear to be too tired to play anymore cards and have missed the correct button.”

Sulu smiled. In all his years of working on planes, and he’d been doing it a while, he had never felt this strong a connection with one of the passengers. He’d found some cute, sure, but he’d never thought that perhaps at the end of the flight … He stopped, not letting his mind go there.

“Well,” he said, “is there anything at all I can help you with, sir?”

“Would you, possibly,” Chekov yawned again, aware of what a bad impression he must have been giving, “see if you could filch me another blanket? It’s really cold on this plane.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Sulu returned moments later with a blanket slung over one arm.

“I’m sorry that it isn’t wrapped,” said Sulu, laying it gently over Chekov.

“No, thank you, this is really great.”

Sulu returned to his station, where his friend Uhura was eyeing him.

“What?” he asked, turning to face her.

“Giving a passenger your blanket is not usually allowed, Sulu,” she said with a smile and a wink.

Sulu found himself blushing almost as deeply as the passenger he felt such a strong connection with.

“No,” said Sulu, “I guess it’s not.”

***

When the plane was emptying, Sulu was surprised by another ding and a light over the seat where he knew Chekov was sitting.

He moved along the plane which was practically empty until he reached Chekov’s seat, but the man was nowhere to be found. On the chair was a note.

_Press these buttons to call me (if you want): 07743 54234 345. Chekov_


End file.
